Sprawled out beyond the Weyr proper's hustling activity and ambling roads, the cool, blue paradise of the Weyr lake promises escape from the oppressive hammer of Igen summer's cruel climes; the asymmetrical, sandy white shores hook delicately around the deceptively still waters running deep and sure, greedy peninsulas reaching white fingers stretching in crooked lines towards its center. A sturdy shack, weather-beaten and brown as cured leather, resides in isolated splendor upon one such finger, screened shelving offering a variety of brushes and fragrant oils housed in colorful tureens. Out beyond a small and dusty paddock ringed by a white fence, a long rocky pier stabs out into the lake, providing a panoramic view of the Weyr itself, while the southern shores provide varied shrubs and grassed for the massed herds in their pens.

It is perhaps an unusual site to see a dragonrider flying a kite, but there you have it. A'dan stands at the lake shore, eyes trained skyward squinting up at a merry little kite that flirts back and forth on the breeze. If you squint, you can make out a dragon… a purple dragon. Wind off the lake whips the bronzerider's robes around his legs as he slowly feeds out more line.

Muirnin has left her cloak behind in favor of a slightly warmer top and has decided to take a time out on the beach. The first warm day in recent memory finds her out on the white sand shore, Fleck taking short flights from her shoulder to zoom around and then come back again, as if afraid Muir will wonder too far without her. "Silly thing," she chuckles, shifting the basket she's carrying to her off arm as her hand raises to shield her eyes. She's not seen a kite in ages, and here.. this gruffish looking man at the end of it instead of some weyrbrat? Smiling, she makes her way closer, the hand coming away from her eyes to wave in greeting. "Good day!"

A'dan takes his eyes off of the kite to peer a the young woman approaching. Light brown eyes take in the details at a glance, the good humor, the light fabric, the restless flit. He nods a greeting, still feeding line slowly to the kite which zigs and zags with each new allowance. He looks back up, squinting, "Good day, ma'am."

Muirnin nearly feels the quick assessment given before he looks back up at the purple dragon, her eyes watching with curiosity. "A lovely day for a kite, with the bit of warm up and all. I haven't seen one in ages," she muses as she comes closer, watching it swoop and dip as he reels it out into the wind more. Having noted his knot, she chews her lip, her run-ins with male riders hasn't had a very good track record so far. "I hope I'm not interrupting your free time," she says carefully, having been too fascinated by the kite's acrobatics to look away for a long moment.

The bluff bronzerider nods acknowledgement of Muirnin's sentiment without taking an eye off of the kite. "Fly it the first of Spring every turn." He watches in silence not feeling any compulsion to fill the silence. Wind sings over the kite string a faint humming shrill. Waves lap softly on the lake shore. And then, the end of the reel. A'dan senses rather than sees the young woman's hesitation. A long moment passes after her statement. Longer than perhaps is comfortable. "Time's never free, is it." A'dan rumbles without taking his eyes off of the kite. "Always a cost, somewhere." Wow. Someone's a gloomy G'us today.

Muirnin takes a couple paces away and then sits in the sands quietly. The quiet does stretch on a bit, but she seems ok with it, eyes intent on the swooping blip of color in the sky. "I suppose you're right," she says at length, head canting so her copper hair falls over one shoulder and out of her way as she keeps her eyes skyward. "Then that's not always a bad thing, some prices are easy to pay," she says with a little smile. "It's a sweet tradition, the kite. A bit of whimsy rarely hurts."

Now that the string is played out, A'dan steps back a few paces to sit abreast of Muirnin. Close enough to continue polite chatter, but a more than proper distance away. He considers the young woman under brows that seem to permanently glower. His face is just kinda made that way. "Yeah. Whimsy. That's me." He looks back up at the kite, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "A'dan, bronze Narloth's," he tosses a chin over his shoulder to the peninsula on which his dark dragon rests. The wedge-shaped head lifts and blinks slowly in acknowledgment.

Turning her head to look at the relaxed bronze, she stretches her chin in his direction and gives a polite, if slight, incline of her head. She's always been one to acknowledge them as their own beings, now's no exception. Looking over the frame and face of the man beside her, she smirks, the grin lighting her eyes with a twinkle. "Now.. you don't have to be all lollipops and polka dots to indulge in something a little light hearted now and then," she reasons and then goes on to introduce herself. "Muirnin, herder of weyrbrats and nappy wrangler," she says with a chuckle under her voice. "An honor to meet you both."

The sitting is more of a crouch. One knee up, one knee down, so, should he need to stand it's just a twitch of muscle away. Not exactly what you'd call relaxed. His eyes, curiously flat, flick over to Muirnin, "Oh. I should probably cancel that order for polka-dotted flight leathers, then." Deadpan. Is he joking? There's not really any indication. Don't play poker with A'dan. "Well met, Muirnin." At her amusing description of her day-to-day role, the bronzerider snorts lightly, "And a grateful Weyr thanks you." Eyes flick over again, "Who's your friend?" Eyebrows tick up, "Narloth says there's something dead over by him if your friend is hungry." It's pretty far, though. A couple dragonlengths away.

Muirnin eyes you for a moment for some tell-tale sign of your humor, but she utter fails at reading you. So.. instead, she falls to her own humor in defense. "I would if I were you, something about your face strikes me as much more of a stripes sort of man over polka dots." Her tone is even and smooth as if she were giving sound advice, but her features betray her, that impish glint never fading from her eyes. "And this.. is Fleck, my very own orphan," she chuckles and then looks down at the tiny bit of dark gemling. There’s a motion toward Narloth, Muir's hand on her stomach after, and then a shrug given to try and shoo her off of her shoulder. "Go make nice, and eat. You're going to get fat on table scraps if you don't fend for yourself," she smiles, letting her take off and laze her way over. Looking back at you she shifts the basket she'd been carrying between us. "Would you like a drink or .. are you too caught up in your whimsy for wine?"

There's a flicker in those light brown eyes at the mention of stripes that could have been humor. Or maybe sun-squints. An impassive blink, and a cut of eye to Muirnin and back to the kite, "And so slimming, too." He toys with the string, giving it a few tugs to set the kite dancing up aloft. "Orphan?" he rumbles, looking off after the little green as it flies off towards Narloth. A shadow flickers over those eyes for a moment. The kite nosedives and he tugs hard on the string, lifting it high over his head and back for the most leverage. He nearly tips over, but recovers. Barely. "Wine begets whimsy. I could use some." Wine or whimsy, either.

Muirnin openly giggles at your slimming comment. "As long as they're not horizontal, yes," she grins, then lets her expression soften, seeing that shadow pass over your eyes. "I found her egg hidden in some storage in the creche while cleaning and decided to adopt and keep her form being crushed by rammy toddlers. We parent-less wonder-kids have to stick together," she says says with a little shrug and then uncovers the basket enough to pull out the bottle she'd brought with her. There's only one cup within, not having expected company, so she pours it full for herself and then offers you the bottle. "Hope you don't mind, I didn't think I'd be lucky enough to be sharing," she says with a cute little curl of her nose.

A'dan snorts, indignant. AS IF. His brow draws down, "What fool firelizard dropped a clutch in the creche?" Incredulous. Incredulous A'dan does well. Eyes tighten over the revelation of Muirnin's parentlessness. "Did you know 'em at all?" Her parents. A'dan presses lips together and shakes his head briskly, leaning across the space between the two of them to snag the bottle. He doesn't mind at all. He tips the bottle back and takes a slug. Stretching out again, he deposits the bottle onto the sand with a twisting motion that drives it deep enough that the bottle stays upright. Not his first rodeo.

Muirnin shakes her head. "I have no idea, because the little emerald egg is the only one I found. It was a storage space, after all, so I wonder if she didn't start to lay there and then get spooked off to finish elsewhere." Squinting, she looks off at the distance, unable to even see Fleck by this point. "She's an affectionate thing, a nice surprise so far." She then takes a deep drink of her glass as your bottle gets rooted in the sand, shrugging. "My father was a bluerider, that was lost to :between: when I was a toddler. My mother's still living, but .. nearly a stranger. I've seen her all of maybe 10 times since he's died? She pushed herself into work to forget her pain, and forgot me in the process," she says softly, shrugging, trying to keep her tone sounding dismissive instead of sad.. and almost succeeds. "But, so be it! I have my creche kids, I smother them with affection and care and make my pay that way too boot, win win, right?" she chuckles then nods in your direction. "What about you? Family.. kids?" she asks curiously.

The little greens do tend to be sweet, rather like their larger cousins. A'dan stills at the mention of disappearing :between: blinking hard. A sad fate. "'s too bad. Family's good, it grounds you. Though, sometimes you do make your own." He looks off over towards Narloth and back up at the kite, "Or they make you." He looks at Muirnin, she knows what he's talking about… weyrbrats, dragons. At her last question he takes a deep breath and watches the kite as he lets it out slowly. "I opened the door, didn't I?" He brushes a hand across his brow as if dragging away spinnerweb threads. Or covering his eyes for a moment. "There was a girl once." Light eyes look across the gap, a query in the cant of brow… how much does Muirnin really want to hear?

"We do find our homes where the heart chooses," she agrees, then tips her head, those oddball eyes watching you intently, soft and caring, sympathetic. "Once.. but not now?" she asks and then nods, drawing her legs up to cross under her thick skirts, leaning toward you to put an elbow to a knee. "I've been told I have amazingly well functioning ears," she says gently, opening the door for him to talk if he'd like to, but not pressing if it's a sore spot, either.

"Not for a long, long time." He swallows, "It's not something I think on often, 'cept the first day of Spring." Connect the dots there Muirnin? He peers at the young woman closely, eyes moving back and forth between hers, registering a bit of surprise or consternation, but only a second. Not one to stare, A'dan. "You can't be more than twenty turns, maybe I knew your 'da." 'cause that's more pleasant to consider, "If he was here at Igen."

Muirnin winces a little, getting the connection that today's either the day you lost her, or her birthday.. maybe she was a rider, too..hence the dragon kite? She feels her shoulders slump a little, feeling a little sheepish for barging in on whatever ritual this is for you, but then.. you didn't shoo her away either. "I'm sorry for your loss, A'dan. I know some pains never really go away." A voice of shared experience there. When you seem to catch her eyes, she looks down as if to hide, not really used to someone truly seeing her rather than just looking her way. "His name was Fa'xon.. ginger like me, I'm told. Other than that, I couldn't say. I was so little, and Tylanna never talks of him so," she shrugs, not having much memory of him all these years later.

A'dan says, "She's not gone. Not that way. My story's much the same as yours, in fact. 'cept she lost her son." He leans over to snag the bottle and takes another pull on it. "Fa'xon." He ponders, swiping at his mouth and peering up at the kite. "There was a bluerider back 15 turns or so ago," he squints, shaking his head, "Fa'xon wasn't his name." A'dan blinks, looking puzzled off into the middle distance, mouth hanging open a bit. Why couldn’t he recall the man's name…! "Getting old."

Muirnin shakes her head. "It's ok. Mom said once he was from Ista. I don't know if that means he was a rider there and we were at Igen or if he was searched to Igen from there," she mutters with another shrug, and a long gulp from her wine. The basket's then offered forward and opened, bits of sweetrolls, cheese and fruit within offered, herself putting a chunk of pastry between her lips to chew thoughtfully. "You don't look that old. You're what.. early 30's?" she muses, your guess about her age too dead on for her to bother commenting.

Everyone without wrinkles is twenty turns old until he learns otherwise. He'd long since given up trying to affix ages to people more than 15 turns his junior. He takes another swig from the bottle and re-screws the bottle into the sand. A'dan gives Muirnin a wry look, "Thirty eight." He's not coy about age. He shakes his head at the offer of food, waving it off politely. "Thanks, though." He looks sadly up at the kite. "You want a go?" he offers the spool.

"A pretty nice looking 38 then, if you'll pardon me for saying," she says into her wine cup, taking another sip. When you offer her the spool she blinks, pulling into a taller sit. "Are.. you sure?" she questions softly. There's an importance to this kite and it's ritual flying that she's barely touched upon, so to be offered the spool makes her hesitate. Licking the sheen of whine off her lips, she puts her cup safely in the basket, nodding politely as she reaches out to take the kite's tether carefully.

A'dan glowers. AH. There's the expression his face is supposed to make. It fits like a glove. Squinting he peers at Muirnin, rasping, "Left my cane at the weyr, girlie." At her question, A'dan nods, and re-offers the kite. "'t should be a happier thing than I've made it."

Muirnin takes the spool in one hand, fingers running up the length of the string a bit to hold the cord itself. "Oh now, don't give me sour face. I only meant that I wouldn't have guessed that as your age. Glower and all you're good looking, if a bit stern eyed," she smiles, face tipped up to view the kite she now controls, but eyes going sidelong to look at you a she gives a sly grin. "Can't be the first time you've heard a girl say so, though." Is she flirting? Hard to tell. Teasing you, though? Most certainly.

"What was that, dearie?" A'dan cups a hand to his ear, "You'll have to speak up." He cuts a look sideways and looks up along the string to the kite dancing above.

Muirnin laughs, bubbling up with the sound that's more buttery than bellish. "Oh, do you really want me to yell out how handsome I think you are, A'dan? Are you trying to make me blush? You don't seem the type to need the ego boost," she chuckles, eyes twinkling a she tugs back on the string to make the kite bob and soar.

"'s no accounting for taste," A'dan shrugs, looking entirely too innocent to be anything other than exactly aware of his gruff charm. He's been popular with the half-his-age and less set of late. And some a bit older. But really he should reel it in. This girl could be his daughter. Speaking of which, A'dan clears his throat, "Kid made that." He gestures with a flick of fingers up at the bobbing kite, "The boy." Oh, nice. Way to bring it down again, A'dan.

Muirnin oooh's softly and nods, her smile dimming but not disappearing. "Then it's extra special. Thank you for letting me fly it, I can understand how some keepsakes are pretty precious," she nods, giving the string another tug and then offering you back the spool. "Was he your boy? or just hers?" she presses, her expression already apologetic for her curiosity.

A'dan winces, "Not sure. There was a goldflight 'round the, well, you know…" She knows, right? Of course she does. He clears his throat, "Doesn't matter," It's a weyr. He shrugs, nodding out to the dragon, "I'm not really in the fatherin' business." A rationalization? What follows is quiet, spoken nearly to himself, "I miss him. Her." A'dan looks into the middle distance eyes unfocused, withdrawn. He gives his head a shake. "She could always make me smile. Him too." There's a strange rearrangement of the bronzerider's features, it's definitely not a smile. More a rueful grimace, "Cheery stuff for your break from chaos." He takes the kite back, "Like I said," he begins reeling the kite back in, "It should have happier moments."

Muirnin watches you reel in the kite and finally seems to put two and two together. "So he.. passed, and she? She's not dead, but not here, so .. she stayed behind?" she whispers. She can't help what her hand does, so used to soothing and being the comforter, that she reaches out, fingers smoothing along the back of your shoulder, rubbing softly in a little circle. "Oh A'dan, no wonder you miss her so much," she whispers. "I'm so sorry, that has to be so hard."

"Same as you," he acknowledges, rolling the kite string over and over. It seems unlikely that he wouldn't take comfort from the touch, but he doesn't really make any acknowledgment of it, except a shifting of his eyes and a blink. When the kite is reeled in he secures the string on a little notch. The kite itself is old and ratty. And very, very patched. Painted red with a bright purple dragon, up close it's possible to see the exuberant hand of a child in the rough, but instantly recognizable, dragon shape. "Ah. You think your kids would enjoy this?" He pivots on his toe and heel, knees shifting so that the opposite knees are down and up. He holds the kite toward Muirnin.

Muirnin 's jaw goes slack for a moment, shaking her head softly. "A'dan.. that's sweet, but I couldn't. It carries too much meaning for you. I couldn't take it and let a bunch of ram-rod little wery brats end up destroying the precious thing," she whispers, her eyes on yours as she explains.

"There's probably one kid." He looks at Muirnin, "A quiet one who plays by himself a lot?" A'dan pushes the kite at Muirnin gently, "Give it to him. Or her."

Muirnin gives him a melting look of thanks, her own eyes fogging over, making her look down and blink quickly lest he see her cry from the gesture. "Thank you," she smiles, the words a little choked before she gets a grip on herself. Too late, a drip escaping and marring her cheek as she laughs lightly, whisking it away with fingertips. "I think I know just who this would make smile," she nods. Yes, we find our own family indeed. Looking up at him she nods, her grin dazzling and heartfelt.

A'dan stands in a smooth movement, dusting off his hands and looking off towards the peninsula. He'd caught the dipping of Muirnin's head and the hoarseness. A'dan lets her have the moment. He hadn't intended to make anyone cry, but, well, he was close himself, his throat thick and they all had their own sadness to bear. Separately together. "Good." He nods. A thing done. And done well. "Thank you." He stands a quiet moment in the bright Spring sun and with no further comment or gesture, turns and strides off towards the dozing bronze.

Muirnin sits and watches him go, her heart aching as she thinks about her lost father for the first time in forever. After he's far enough away to be a speck, at his bronze's side, she looks down at the purple dragon kite, tracing her fingers along its wings as she smiles sadly, for the first time since coming forward, letting her tears fall freely as she mourns for broken hearts.. his and hers.